


Saturday's Are Just For Us

by Cup_of_Lou



Series: Just a Moment in Our Time [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, All domestic fluff, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, I had to write something christmasy, I love fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and i had to get into the spirit, because I have been listening to christmas pandora, but fluffy, just makes me happy inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cup_of_Lou/pseuds/Cup_of_Lou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But Lou,” Here we go, I thought with the simultaneous eye roll, he had his reasoning voice on, “That means we have twelve days till Christmas. There’s a song about that, and like french hens or something. And with twelve days till Christmas, that can only mean one thing.” He started towards the couch as he pulled off his coat to drape it over the side of the coach before he pulled his lanky form over the back to fall into my side, molding to me perfectly as he wiggled himself under the blanket.</p><p>(Or the Saturday AU with domestic fluff and slight Christmas feels)<br/>My tumblr is http://cup-of-lou.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday's Are Just For Us

“It’s Christmas.” Harry stated as he slammed the door hard enough to shake the bookcase on the other side of the room, his eyes wide and mouth slack with realization that yes, it was close to Christmas. It usually never took him this long to get the Christmas vibe, in all of the six years we had been together, so I wasn’t surprised at his sudden outburst of holiday cheer. It was probably stirred awake by the car radio.

“It’s December and fucking Christmas is around the corner.” He shook his head as he toed off his shoes, like the idea was as foreign as it was to him last year. He continued with the action as he took off his scarf and shook his curls out of the loose beanie I recognized as mine from a birthday a few years back. His eyes were still blown wide, green eyes accentuated with the light blush in his cheeks from the cold, as he went to drop the Tesco bags that were filled with the things I had told him to get. They plopped down on the kitchen counter and I took that as my time to turn back to the television.

“Yeah babe, December thirteenth, twelve days away from Christmas.” I stated with mocked excitement, refocusing on the Doctor Who marathon I had started just before he had left. I had since gotten up, stretching my joints and all that jazz, and now I sat comfortably under a blanket with an almost finished cup of tea in my hand.

“But Lou,” Here we go, I thought with the simultaneous eye roll, he had his reasoning voice on, “That means we have twelve days till Christmas. There’s a song about that, and like french hens or something. And with twelve days till Christmas, that can only mean one thing.” He started towards the couch as he pulled off his coat to drape it over the side of the coach before he pulled his lanky form over the back to fall into my side, molding to me perfectly as he wiggled himself under the blanket.

“Don’t even remind me.” I groaned, finishing the last of my tea to place the mug on the coffee table with a statement in the form of the ceramic hitting the wood. “I’m turning 100 this year. Not very eventful, we should just forget about the whole thing.” I shrugged and snuggled into his chest, his arms encircling me in a winter-bitted hug. He was going to need a thicker coat for this winter, his skin felt frozen against my own.

He didn’t know how I felt about my birthday, but Harry being Harry he probably did. I was turning twenty-seven this year, meaning I was closer to thirty than to twenty, and that scared me. I had yet to find a stable job, working convenient shifts at Harry’s mum’s coffee shop sometimes with him and sometimes not, just so I could put in my portion of the rent. I had no stable job credit, only having a small degree in Drama that wouldn’t make me a blimp on London school’s radar. I was in no position to be turning thirty in three years, so I tried desperately not to think about my soonly approaching birthday. Harry, on the other hand, had different plans.

“You’re just turning twenty-seven Lou-Lou, that’s not even that old! You act like its the end of the world” He poked my stomach hard enough to make me squirm in his lap, kissing my forehead as I turned to glare at him. “You should be excited about it. I am.” He looked so genuinely pleased with himself, wearing that stupid smug smile that I had fallen for six years ago.

“Oh shut up!” I rolled my eyes at how his eyes crinkled. “You’re, what, twelve? You have no room to talk about growing ‘old’ till you grow a pair, you twat.” I was being immature, that was a blatant given in our long last relationship, but it didn’t stop from that stupid smug smile to grow on his face as his eyes shone with pride and love, the crinkles in the corners of those green eyes crinkling even more. He was impossible..

“I don’t think a twelve year old could quite ‘grow’ the pair I have, Lou.” He didn’t falter with his snippy comeback, a trait I had sadly given him, and the quickness alone made me huff in annoyance and turn to situate myself towards the television. Harry was just being annoying. He was being stupid, annoying, insanely irresistible Harry Styles.

“I hate you, you know that?” I hummed absently as the commercials came on to a familiar jingle that I had seen thousands of times before. His long and cold fingers had found themselves into my hair, intertwining themselves in my feathery, bed-headed wisps that had yet to be tamed by a brush or a shower. “I hate you and your stupid face and your stupid dick.”

“Careful love, he might get mad at you.” He giggled that stupid, teen-humored giggle that reminded me I was, in fact, close to his member. And that I was in a long-lasting relationship with a toddler, but that was a fact I had come to terms with somewhere along our three month anniversary. Harry had always been pretty transparent with his personality.

“Oh stuff it, you overgrown toddler.” My words bounced off him like always, the only message sticking was the unsaid ‘I love you’ that was always implied. He giggled again, fingers tugging at my hair, and the groan I sounded at his obnoxiousness earned another fit of giggles that shook my body as much as him. “Lets just finish the program.”

I could feel him nod at my request, and his fingers were soon to go from tugging to drawing circles on my scalp as we both watched Matt Smith running around a spaceship with dinosaurs. It was the stereotypical Stylinson Saturday, as Liam and Zayn and most especially Niall liked to call it. The day always consisted of TV marathons, copious cups of tea, too many kisses to count, and sometimes (more often than not) a sexual act here or there. The others had learned over the years that Saturdays, not Saturnights, were assigned to the two of us to share, and no matter how many we would spend in each others company, we would always need them. Saturnights, depending on the week we had had, were usually the time when the guys would bring us out, or over to their flat. That was usually okay, but it was more us and three backup voices as Harry once tried to explain to them. They didn’t even get offended.

I had lost track of time, my mind quiet as the show went from commercial to actual show, but when the commercial break came on again, I found my eyes wandering outside onto our three-person patio. It had started snowing, the thick while snowflakes that you could stare at for hours to be amazed at the beauty, yet it was still the kind of light snow that only lead to black ice on the roads and sidewalks. It was also the kind of snow that Harry would find a way, being his clumsy self, to fall on and would make me kiss it better. I smiled at the simple thought of a 6’2 Harry falling onto the ice and getting that cute kitten pout he always gets when he hurts himself, my eyes watching the thick flakes falling onto the fake wood of our patio.

“I know you’re not happy about being twenty-seven.” Harry suddenly said, his fingers stilling in my hair as his voice was turned down to a whisper. That was code for seriousness, at least to Harry in his mind. He always got freakishly still, his eyes always finding one thing, usually me, to start at while he said what was on his mind with little to no teenaged awkwardness that he had lost over the years.

“I am turning twenty-seven, aren’t I?” If I was to admit it, it would have to be now. Or else I would wake up at three in the morning on Christmas Eve to thick tears and the realization that I was, in fact, growing older. Harry knew this too, and smoothed my bangs off my forehead to press another kiss there.

“You are.” He kissed my head in the same comforting manner before moving his hand to my back. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m twenty-five. Thats five years more than I would have given myself to get over the tight jeans.” He laughed whole-heartedly as he plucked at the clingy material that hugged his mile-long legs.

“Thats one thing that I’m glad hasn’t changed with age.” I laughed along with him, deep chuckles mixing with my higher giggles in perfect harmony. “I swear your legs could go on for ages. You’ll probably have model legs when you’re thirty.” I sighed with a goofy, love stricken smile. “And forty.” I turned about in my spot so I could sit up and face him and that stupid smile that was always on his face. “Fifty, too, if you keep up with the gym.” I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his.

He tasted like Harry, like Home. The sweetness of his morning apple, the bitterness of the cup of tea I had shoved into his hands before he went outside, mixed in with his /taste/ sent shivers of happiness down my spine. The feeling of home didn’t last very long before his lips parted to release his bone-shaking, heart clenching laugh that could be used as my forever soundtrack.

His laugh was hearty and deep, his Harold laugh as I liked to refer to it as. It was the kind of laugh that would echo through our two room fact and shake the bathroom door and its bad hinges. The kind of laugh that would turn his face beet red while his eyes crinkled and a tear would be shed here or there from the pure happiness that was shaking his whole body. His Harold laughs were made of pure, untouched happiness, and it made my life light up whenever I heard it.

“Just imagine me in twenty years with my legs now.” He sputtered between laughs that made my lips stay in a permanent smile. “I’d be all wrinkly with grey hair, and my legs would still be the shit.” He sucked in a deep breath before going further into his fit of laughter.

Yes, it was the most angelic, heavenly sound that I could ever prey to grace my ears, but sometimes it got to be too much for my heart to handle. Before I could reason with myself, I was pushing my lips back against his to try in an attempt to silence him. His vocal happiness was soon forgotten as he lost himself in the kiss, granting me my wish as his lips worked in sync with mine. He was the first to pull away, an unhappy sound emitted from my slightly parted mouth in response to his most certainly uncalled for action.

“I love you.” He said with his red lips, taunting me with how full I had made them simply from sucking and biting at them. His cheeks were heated, adding that special element to light up his eyes while making them wide in lust at the same time. “I really fucking love you.”

“Oh stop being sentimental and kiss me, you sod.” I rolled my eyes and went back to kissing his irresistible lips. “But if it matters, I love you too.”

 


End file.
